


If you can't beat them...

by WilwyWaylan



Series: Jehanparnasse Week [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, I love fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, and tartan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 21:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12566704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilwyWaylan/pseuds/WilwyWaylan
Summary: If there's something Montparnasse can't endure, it's tartan. So why oh why did he fall in love with someone who seems to only wear plaid shirts ?





	If you can't beat them...

**Author's Note:**

> It's Jehanparnasse's week again ! Today's prompt was "Acceptance" and of course, I had to write stupid fluff again.

If there was one thing Montparnasse was very vocal about, it was clothes in general. And more precisely, Armani suits, his favourite jacket with embrodiered roses, silk shirts, why his socks were the best and most comfortable, and of course, Jehan's endless love for tartan. Actually, that was the first thing he'd ever tell him : he had watched him up and down, and asked who on earth would think it was a good idea to pair two different plaid shirts together. Jehan just looked up from his book and told him that judging people on their clothing wasn't very punk rock. Montparnasse offered to buy him a new shirt if it meant getting rid of the monstruosity he had under his very eyes. They accepted the offer, and promptly brought him to a thrift shop when they proceded to find the loudest plaid shirt, almost causing the strange, sharp-dressed man to have a heart attack. The fact that he still bought the shirt because he gave his word was enough to start stealing Jehan's heart.

But he never, ever stopped complaining about it, and sometimes even threatened to set some tartan monstruosities on fire. Which of course he didn't dare to, because that would hurt Jehan's feelings, and he really, really didn't want to do that. So he just grumbled about it and tried to push the offending articles out of his sight. Which... really wasn't easy. Either Jehan did have stock in a tartan factory, or he had secret Scottish origins or something, but the quantity of tartan things in their flat was... incredible. Tartan bed sheets, couch cushions, bag, notebooks, a small teddy bear, and of course, a whole closet full of loud plaid shirts. But at least, it was still better than those hideous paisley ones (which luckily met their demise at Bahorel's hands). Or the flowery patterns that made him cringe, and pushed Courfeyrac to do the "the 70s called and want their sweaters back" joke at least once a week. All things considered, tartan was the lesser evil. But still, why so much of it, and not just ONE solid black item that would look so good on them ? The poet just smiled, shrugged, and enjoyed their colorful shirts.

\-----

When they pushed the door this evening, Jehan was thinking about an assignement they had due this week, Montparnasse's check-up at the vet (which always got the funniest reactions, naming your cat the same as your boyfriend was hilarious), their future Halloween costume, and they had to stock on candles again. They hanged their jacket, abandonned their shoes at the door, and went to the kitchen to make themselves a good cup of tea. Montparnasse (the boyfriend) wouldn't be home for at least two hours, and they needed some time to unwind before getting on with the assignement.

They were so absorbed that they didn't even noticed at first that there was something... weird in the living room. As they walked into the kitchen, they did a double take, and looked back. No, they weren't seeing things. Montparnasse was sprawled on the couch, as graceful as the cat curled up on his stomach, looking every bit the relaxed dandy as he was reading a novel, scratching Tiny Monty behind the ears. Nothing out of the ordinary, even if he was home early. Except for the red and black plaid shirt he was wearing. 

He must have sensed Jehan's eyes on him, because he lifted his head, and said with a smile :

\- Good evening, mon coeur. How was your day ?

Jehan could only stare. And stare. So much that, with a frown, Montparnasse put his book aside, and got closer, disturbing the cat who got up and left with a meow. 

\- Jehan ? He asked, his voice laced with concern now. Are you alright ?

\- Ah, yes, they answered finally. I, uh... just didn't expect you this early.

\- The thing with Babet ended up earlier than usual, so I came here.

Jehan knew better than to ask about that thing. But they couldn't hold the next question in :

\- Is it laundry day ?

\- What ? No, why would it ? Montparnasse answered with a frown.

\- Well... You're... wearing a plaid shirt.

Montparnasse looked at himself like he had forgotten the red and black thing he was wearing.

\- Ah, yes, he said. I took it in your closet. I hope you don't mind.

\- Why... no, I don't mind, of course I don't. I just thought...

\- You thought ?

\- That you would catch fire if you were to wear tartan one day. 

Montparnasse's expression turned... almost mischevious. He spread his arms, the sides of the shirt falling around him like some kind of Scottish Batman. 

\- Well, he remarked, as you can see, I remain fire-free. 

\- I can see this. So... is there... a reason ?

\- I was cold, Montparnasse said simply.

And he stopped at that. Which didn't help that much, as Jehan knew that he would probably drape himself in the curtains before going for the tartan. They must have looked confused, because Montparnasse explained :

\- I know I said that your shirts should be burnt at the stake, but I changed my mind. After all, you like them, and I can't really speak ill of your tastes, now, shall I ?

Jehan shook his head, grinning.

\- At least, he added, that one is not too awful. And I have to recognize that it's quite warm. 

\- So, should I note you truly seduced ?

\- Seduced, maybe not. But you know the saying... he sighed dramatically.

He let himself fall against Jehan, who caught him in their arms and held him tight.

\- No, they asked, what does it say ?

\- If you can't beat them... dress like them.


End file.
